y--luckily I knew one in Hampton, and he, as
it happened, was a friend of the Sandy Beach judge. We had to move
quickly, but, thanks to the telegraph wire and fast trains, I got Roy
released from bail and suspicion, and here in time to greet you."

They could only look their gratitude. Just as the strain was becoming
almost too taut, Mr. Bell, who had noticed it, broke the tension.

"Let's sneak out of the back door," he said, "and all go to some quiet
place to dine. Hullo, who's this?" he exclaimed, as the tattered figure of
the man of the island appeared.

"I am what is left of Budd Pierce, Jim Bell," said the man, in his queer,
tired tones.

"Budd Pierce!" exclaimed the mining man, falling back a step. "No--but,
yes, now I look again--it is. But, man, what has happened to you? What are
you doing here?"

"It's a long story," said the ragged man, while the younger members of the
party looked on in astonishment, "but I can tell you that Gene Mortlake
has reached the end of his tether. I've heard all you said about him, and
my interest in him you know already."

"I know that you were swindled out of your fortune by some man years ago,
and then disappeared," said Mr. Bell. "But I had forgotten the name of the
rascal."

"It was Eugene Mortlake," said the man of the island slowly. "After I knew
I was ruined, I fled down here, where I was raised, and became a recluse
on that island. It was cowardly of me, I know, but from now on I am going
to lead a different life."

"You have found yourself!" cried James Bell, gleefully clasping the
other's thin, worn hand.

"I have found something dearer to me," was the quiet reply; "but come, let
us be going. I have much that is strange to tell you."

With wondering looks, the young aviators--Roy leaning on Peggy's devoted
arm--followed James Bell and the man from Lost Brig Island out of the
aeroplane shed.

* * * * *

In his suite of rooms at the Hotel Hampton, the best hotel in the place,
Eugene Mortlake sat opposite old Mr. Harding. His brow was furrowed, and
little wrinkles that had not been there earlier in the day, appeared at
the corners of his eyes. Old Mr. Harding seemed to be trying to cheer him
up. In another corner of the room, sullen and depressed, Fanning Harding
was standing puffing a cigarette and filling the atmosphere with its
reeking fumes.

"All is not lost yet, Mortlake, hey, hey, hey?" said the old man, laying a
skinny,